August 2006
It is by far the most beloved product that modern society has to offer. The Moroccans call it “telefaza”, which is a close cousin to its original name, television. You could jump into a Land Rover, criss-crossing the ancient countryside and you would be absolutely astonished by the sheer abundance of satellite dishes and their accompanying television sets. I will never forget some of these remote Atlas mountain villages, dozens of miles from the nearest power line, where nearly-toothless housewives dip buckets in the muddy river for drinking water and farmers till their diminutive parcels of land by hand, yet atop several mud huts one finds gleaming white satellite dishes. Their system might be powered by a car battery and solar panels, or perhaps a development agency introduced a micro-hydroelectric project in order to deliver them the fruits of the twentieth century. The end goal is always the same though: telefaza, and lots of it.
I could not overstate the importance of telefaza in Moroccan society and how quickly it has managed to fit snugly into more traditional aspects of their culture. One such timeless aspect of Moroccan society is that of copious hospitality, yet it is not always of the kind that we may think of. To an average Moroccan, it is not necessarily important that you are engaged by the conversation, having a good time, or even sitting with anybody else. It is vital that you are physically within their home and the longer they can keep you there, the more satisfied they are. It has happened on several occasions that I have been invited to a Moroccan’s home, was led promptly to sit on the floor and within 20 seconds the television was blaring Tom and Jerry, dubbed into Arabic. Just as quickly, the host disappeared and was never seen again. Every 25 minutes or so, some mute female household member would scurry in, perhaps bringing a glass of tea or peanuts and then vanish as fast as humanly possible. After an hour and a half, this would get old and I would start trying to think of ways of to escape when all of a sudden, five men crammed in through the door and screamed over the blasting television that I needed to stay for the next meal, which arrived, inevitably, after two more hours of waiting.
At no point would I ever enjoy being there, but it was a chance to get caught up on Egyptian soap operas, but that is not all that is being watched. If it’s on the tube, it is fair game, regardless of whether the program is in Arabic, Dutch or Spanish and the viewers speak none of the above. Soccer matches (there seems to always be a soccer game being played somewhere in the world by someone on some channel), French trials-of-life nature shows, Arabic-dubbed American and Japanese cartoons, North African religious-drama-mini-series with horrific editing, Western action films with bountiful explosions, and anything on the two government owned channels are choice programming around these parts. When the news comes on, lots of people will change the channel for something requiring less of an attention span. The past month, though, normal viewing habits have changed somewhat.
Morocco, and southern Morocco especially, can be safely described as a politically ambivalent society. In the past two years I have had the delight of living in the Middle East during some fairly colorful conflagrations in the Muslim world. Whether it was vacationing in Cairo when Yassir Arafat’s funeral procession was made through town, teaching English classes in Morocco after Danish newspapers were found to have run cartoons featuring disparaging depictions of the Prophet Mohamed, or the current war between Israel and Hizbullah, there always seems to be something that could have kept the conversation lively. But in reality, much of the harassment that I had originally expected, be it political or otherwise (I have only ever been asked four times about why I have long hair, for instance) has not been encountered in the least.
Not that emotions are tepid everywhere throughout this country. A protest this past Sunday in Casablanca drew at least 50,000 people, though a conflicting estimate of 1 million people makes you wonder who exactly is doing the counting. Newspapers and television broadcasts were plastered by images of the protestors who despite being entirely peaceful in their conduct are, in fact, incensed. The words being used not only by the picketers but also by the organized media are to the tune of “butchery, savagery, genocide…” This last allegation is absurd of course, and it seems that people are conveniently forgetting that a number of Israelis are in fact Jewish Arabs. The words are certainly being said, however, and to what extent it is believed, I can only guess.
I read a long time ago that the Hebrew faith once held that God was much a more human entity possessing flaws and undesirable, more closely resembling deities of Greek mythology. With passing ages and endless persecution it was decided that their Creator would never subject them to such cruelties and as a result, they constructed a duality of God and Satan that would rationalize their suffering. I have no idea if this is true (and let me know if you have ever heard anything similar to this theory), but we do know that the Anti-Semitism that may have spurred this theological shift is as old as the Torah itself. Unfortunately, it is also alive and well in the Muslim world.
Two a half years ago I was chatting with a man on a bus while traveling around the Sinai Peninsula in Egypt with my girlfriend. The political tension at the time was heightened by a year and a half-old Iraq war and a triple bombing in the Sinai Peninsula that had occurred only one month earlier. Naturally, we chose to vacation in the eastern coastal town that had not been bombed, Dahab, although the extremists eventually hit that one this past spring - it was somewhat chilling to see pictures in the newspaper of an obliterated bridge where Cara and I had stood just a short time earlier. Nonetheless, a jovial traveler tried to reassure me that we would be safe based not on who we are, but by who we are not. “Americans, British, Spanish,” he explained, listing members of the Coalition of the Willing “are good people. We understand the difference between their governments and the citizens. But Israelis… all Israelis are bad people.”
There are some fairly amusing misconceptions that are floating around Morocco. One somewhat common belief here is that the September 11th hijackers were Jewish (we probably have Al Jazeera to thank for that), while others will tell you that George Bush is a Jew. But then again, not so long ago, some Americans thought that Jewish people had horns, so who are we to talk? Nonetheless, I have long been very tight-lipped regarding my childhood spent in the Jewish town in Massachusetts. The few times that I have told someone of my origins it usually resulted in a very awkward silence and then changing topics, or just turning the volume up on the telefaza.
As I write this, the world is poised at the edge of its seat, waiting to see if Hizbullah and Israel will honor the cease-fire scheduled for this morning. God willing, they will observe the deadline and abandon the blood fest which has primarily served to devastate the civilian population and ensure heavy recruitment for the “Party of God”. Peace Corps Morocco volunteers having been following the news with a certain interest in mind, that of our status in this country. Volunteers have been evacuated twice in our long history here, due to Iraq War I and II, courtesy of the Bush dynasty. What are the criteria for evacuating a Peace Corps country? All of us would love to know. It does seem strange to evacuate volunteers when the nearest war is 3000 miles away, although anonymous death threats directed towards staff and volunteers were the flashpoint in 2003. Even if the cease-fire does fall apart, though, it is likely we would still be here for a while, as our presence here is a relatively delicate geopolitical matter. Tourism is an essential component of the Moroccan economy and the evacuation of development workers always leaves a dark blemish on the tourism industry. The Moroccan government has made it abundantly clear that if we take down shop for a third time, it would be for good. This would not be a smooth move at a time when Peace Corps is trying to expand its operations throughout the Muslim world. In fact, Morocco is one of only two Arab countries that will accept volunteers (the other being Jordan and I am not too sure of their status right now) and it is one of America’s most consistent and faithful friends throughout history. It is often noted that after the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, the Moroccan sultan was the first world leader to pen a letter of congratulations to the fledgling nation.
To date, I have only heard about one incident of a politically-driven threat, and it was a fairly hollow one. A friend who lived in the heart of the Berber boondocks recently found a letter on his front door saying, “A friend of Israel is not a friend of Morocco. Leave immediately!” It probably was not even a resident of his actual village as he lives in a vacant pocket of the High Atlas that attracts a much larger population in summer. His home is situated on the hiking circuit circumscribing the country’s most recognized National Park, Toubqal – named after the highest peak in North Africa laying its center. Nonetheless, the note prompted the immediate intervention of the rural policemen, the beloved gendarmes, a bunch of bored city boys best known for chain smoking, two-fingered typewriting and collecting bribes from uninsured/unlicensed transit drivers. It is these fellows whose “protection” we are placed under by royal decree (literally). A long series of interrogations produced little in the way of an author, but it did uncover a rash of skeletons from villagers’ closets, causing complete scandal in his mountain hamlet and thoroughly eliminating any possibility of his working there in the future. I saw him this past week, taking a forced vacation while Peace Corps tries to find him a new village to serve his remaining ten months of duty. One must admit, though, that whoever wrote the note achieved his exact demand – he is gone after all. Maybe threats really do work, but it will take a fairly serious event to send us packing for home. So, have no fear, the Moroccan blogs will continue.
I could not overstate the importance of telefaza in Moroccan society and how quickly it has managed to fit snugly into more traditional aspects of their culture. One such timeless aspect of Moroccan society is that of copious hospitality, yet it is not always of the kind that we may think of. To an average Moroccan, it is not necessarily important that you are engaged by the conversation, having a good time, or even sitting with anybody else. It is vital that you are physically within their home and the longer they can keep you there, the more satisfied they are. It has happened on several occasions that I have been invited to a Moroccan’s home, was led promptly to sit on the floor and within 20 seconds the television was blaring Tom and Jerry, dubbed into Arabic. Just as quickly, the host disappeared and was never seen again. Every 25 minutes or so, some mute female household member would scurry in, perhaps bringing a glass of tea or peanuts and then vanish as fast as humanly possible. After an hour and a half, this would get old and I would start trying to think of ways of to escape when all of a sudden, five men crammed in through the door and screamed over the blasting television that I needed to stay for the next meal, which arrived, inevitably, after two more hours of waiting.
At no point would I ever enjoy being there, but it was a chance to get caught up on Egyptian soap operas, but that is not all that is being watched. If it’s on the tube, it is fair game, regardless of whether the program is in Arabic, Dutch or Spanish and the viewers speak none of the above. Soccer matches (there seems to always be a soccer game being played somewhere in the world by someone on some channel), French trials-of-life nature shows, Arabic-dubbed American and Japanese cartoons, North African religious-drama-mini-series with horrific editing, Western action films with bountiful explosions, and anything on the two government owned channels are choice programming around these parts. When the news comes on, lots of people will change the channel for something requiring less of an attention span. The past month, though, normal viewing habits have changed somewhat.
Morocco, and southern Morocco especially, can be safely described as a politically ambivalent society. In the past two years I have had the delight of living in the Middle East during some fairly colorful conflagrations in the Muslim world. Whether it was vacationing in Cairo when Yassir Arafat’s funeral procession was made through town, teaching English classes in Morocco after Danish newspapers were found to have run cartoons featuring disparaging depictions of the Prophet Mohamed, or the current war between Israel and Hizbullah, there always seems to be something that could have kept the conversation lively. But in reality, much of the harassment that I had originally expected, be it political or otherwise (I have only ever been asked four times about why I have long hair, for instance) has not been encountered in the least.
Not that emotions are tepid everywhere throughout this country. A protest this past Sunday in Casablanca drew at least 50,000 people, though a conflicting estimate of 1 million people makes you wonder who exactly is doing the counting. Newspapers and television broadcasts were plastered by images of the protestors who despite being entirely peaceful in their conduct are, in fact, incensed. The words being used not only by the picketers but also by the organized media are to the tune of “butchery, savagery, genocide…” This last allegation is absurd of course, and it seems that people are conveniently forgetting that a number of Israelis are in fact Jewish Arabs. The words are certainly being said, however, and to what extent it is believed, I can only guess.
I read a long time ago that the Hebrew faith once held that God was much a more human entity possessing flaws and undesirable, more closely resembling deities of Greek mythology. With passing ages and endless persecution it was decided that their Creator would never subject them to such cruelties and as a result, they constructed a duality of God and Satan that would rationalize their suffering. I have no idea if this is true (and let me know if you have ever heard anything similar to this theory), but we do know that the Anti-Semitism that may have spurred this theological shift is as old as the Torah itself. Unfortunately, it is also alive and well in the Muslim world.
Two a half years ago I was chatting with a man on a bus while traveling around the Sinai Peninsula in Egypt with my girlfriend. The political tension at the time was heightened by a year and a half-old Iraq war and a triple bombing in the Sinai Peninsula that had occurred only one month earlier. Naturally, we chose to vacation in the eastern coastal town that had not been bombed, Dahab, although the extremists eventually hit that one this past spring - it was somewhat chilling to see pictures in the newspaper of an obliterated bridge where Cara and I had stood just a short time earlier. Nonetheless, a jovial traveler tried to reassure me that we would be safe based not on who we are, but by who we are not. “Americans, British, Spanish,” he explained, listing members of the Coalition of the Willing “are good people. We understand the difference between their governments and the citizens. But Israelis… all Israelis are bad people.”
There are some fairly amusing misconceptions that are floating around Morocco. One somewhat common belief here is that the September 11th hijackers were Jewish (we probably have Al Jazeera to thank for that), while others will tell you that George Bush is a Jew. But then again, not so long ago, some Americans thought that Jewish people had horns, so who are we to talk? Nonetheless, I have long been very tight-lipped regarding my childhood spent in the Jewish town in Massachusetts. The few times that I have told someone of my origins it usually resulted in a very awkward silence and then changing topics, or just turning the volume up on the telefaza.
As I write this, the world is poised at the edge of its seat, waiting to see if Hizbullah and Israel will honor the cease-fire scheduled for this morning. God willing, they will observe the deadline and abandon the blood fest which has primarily served to devastate the civilian population and ensure heavy recruitment for the “Party of God”. Peace Corps Morocco volunteers having been following the news with a certain interest in mind, that of our status in this country. Volunteers have been evacuated twice in our long history here, due to Iraq War I and II, courtesy of the Bush dynasty. What are the criteria for evacuating a Peace Corps country? All of us would love to know. It does seem strange to evacuate volunteers when the nearest war is 3000 miles away, although anonymous death threats directed towards staff and volunteers were the flashpoint in 2003. Even if the cease-fire does fall apart, though, it is likely we would still be here for a while, as our presence here is a relatively delicate geopolitical matter. Tourism is an essential component of the Moroccan economy and the evacuation of development workers always leaves a dark blemish on the tourism industry. The Moroccan government has made it abundantly clear that if we take down shop for a third time, it would be for good. This would not be a smooth move at a time when Peace Corps is trying to expand its operations throughout the Muslim world. In fact, Morocco is one of only two Arab countries that will accept volunteers (the other being Jordan and I am not too sure of their status right now) and it is one of America’s most consistent and faithful friends throughout history. It is often noted that after the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, the Moroccan sultan was the first world leader to pen a letter of congratulations to the fledgling nation.
To date, I have only heard about one incident of a politically-driven threat, and it was a fairly hollow one. A friend who lived in the heart of the Berber boondocks recently found a letter on his front door saying, “A friend of Israel is not a friend of Morocco. Leave immediately!” It probably was not even a resident of his actual village as he lives in a vacant pocket of the High Atlas that attracts a much larger population in summer. His home is situated on the hiking circuit circumscribing the country’s most recognized National Park, Toubqal – named after the highest peak in North Africa laying its center. Nonetheless, the note prompted the immediate intervention of the rural policemen, the beloved gendarmes, a bunch of bored city boys best known for chain smoking, two-fingered typewriting and collecting bribes from uninsured/unlicensed transit drivers. It is these fellows whose “protection” we are placed under by royal decree (literally). A long series of interrogations produced little in the way of an author, but it did uncover a rash of skeletons from villagers’ closets, causing complete scandal in his mountain hamlet and thoroughly eliminating any possibility of his working there in the future. I saw him this past week, taking a forced vacation while Peace Corps tries to find him a new village to serve his remaining ten months of duty. One must admit, though, that whoever wrote the note achieved his exact demand – he is gone after all. Maybe threats really do work, but it will take a fairly serious event to send us packing for home. So, have no fear, the Moroccan blogs will continue.
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